LOVE IS
by RoodAwakening
Summary: Mrs. Muir and Captain Gregg learn a few new things about love . . . .
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All characters _except_ that of Sr. Kathryn belong to their creators (R. A. Dick, a/k/a Josephine Lesley, and 20th Century Fox, specifically), and do not originate with me; I am merely borrowing them for the purpose of weaving a story around them. Sr. Kathryn Love is a composite character loosely based on a few different women I have personally known, and one whom I do not. This bit of fan fiction is written strictly for personal entertainment, and I neither wish, nor receive, financial recompense for it.

**LOVE IS**

by

JCS

"One cannot love without suffering, or suffer without loving."

~ St. Gianna Molla ~

In the early morning light streaming through her bedroom window, Carolyn Muir closed her Bible, and reflected on the chapter she had just read in First Corinthians. She found that Saint Paul's words made her very uncomfortable.

"If this is an accurate description of love in its purest form," she thought, "then, I've got a long way to go!"

"Good morning, dear lady," said Captain Daniel Gregg cheerfully, as he materialized in their room, dressed in his usual nautical garb. "You are certainly awake early, today! Have you got something on your mind?"

She looked at him, nodded, and smiled a bit absently.

"Um…yes. I'm thinking about love."

"_Really?_" he grinned, as his voice dropped to a more intimate level, and he quirked an eyebrow at her. A certain, rakish glint appeared in his sky-blue eyes. "Please, tell me more!"

She blushed a bit as she shook her head at him, rolled her own green eyes, and sighed in mild exasperation.

"Reverend Farley asked me to write a short article about love for the church's February newsletter in honor of Saint Valentine's Day. He gave me a book by C. S. Lewis called **The Four Loves** for background, but suggested I start by reading First Corinthians, chapter thirteen, as well as other Scripture verses on the subject. I've just read the first of them, and I was thinking about it when you popped in."

The captain, deflated, furrowed his brow slightly, and said, "The church newsletter? Does that pay much? And the good reverend wants you to write an article for Saint Valentine's Day in July?"

"It doesn't pay at all, I'm afraid," Carolyn replied, smiling at him. "It'll come strictly out of the goodness of my heart—it'll be a _real_ labor of love. But I told Reverend Farley that I'd do it—I don't have the time to volunteer for anything else for the church, after all. The article isn't due until early January. He knows I have to write other articles and stories to sell, in the meantime, so he gave me plenty of notice."

"Well, I suppose I'll let you get to it, then," Captain Gregg said, and disappeared rather abruptly, leaving Carolyn a little surprised at his sudden departure. But she shrugged, and got ready to go downstairs for breakfast.

Up in his wheelhouse, the captain rummaged through one of his sea chests, and finally found his old, leather-bound, pocket-sized New Testament. A gift from his Irish mother before her death when he was a young boy, it had traveled the world's seas with him, never far from his hand . . . even when he had knowingly, and quite willingly, violated its teachings. He thought he remembered First Corinthians, chapter thirteen, but he wanted to be sure of it. It had been so long. He riffled through the little book's pages. Ah, here it was—his finger found verses four through eight: "Charity is patient, is kind: charity envieth not, dealeth not perversely; is not puffed up; Is not ambitious, seeketh not her own, is not provoked to anger, thinketh no evil; Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth with the truth; Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never falleth away: whether prophecies shall be made void, or tongues shall cease, or knowledge shall be destroyed."

After reading this twice, slowly and thoughtfully, Daniel Gregg bowed his head into his hands in sorrow. How he had failed in loving everyone—but especially Carolyn! Now, in researching this blasted article, she would realize by how much he'd missed the mark. Would she take her family and leave Gull Cottage . . . and him? He found the thought unbearable. He must make amends, before it was too late. He raised his head, and popped down to the kitchen.

The family was gathered, eating breakfast. The captain materialized behind Carolyn's chair.

"Madam," he said, quietly, "may I speak with you privately when you have finished your meal?"

Carolyn turned to look at him, noting his serious tone. "Can it wait until after the kids have left for the day? I won't be so distracted."

Captain Gregg nodded, and said, "Yes, of course, my dear. I'll be in my alcove." Then, he vanished.

Candy and Jonathan looked at each other, then at their mother, puzzled.

"He didn't even say 'hi' to us, Mom! Is he mad at us or something?" asked Jonathan.

Carolyn thought back to her own conversation with the captain earlier, and shook her head. "No, I don't think so. He just seems a bit preoccupied this morning. Don't worry; I'll find out about it after you've gone out to play."

"Hmmmm," said Martha, at the toaster. "Maybe, the old goat is coming down with the ague? No, I suppose not."

The children giggled.

"Actually, Mrs. Muir, I do have to do some shopping in Keystone today," Martha said. "How about if I take the children with me? I need helpers."

"Kids? What do you think about that?" Carolyn asked them.

Both Candy and Jonathan considered the idea briefly.

"Yeah, I guess that's okay, Mom. I didn't have anything special to do today, anyway," said Candy. Jonathan nodded in agreement.

Carolyn smiled at them both warmly. They really were _such_ good children. She was very grateful for that.

"Good! Now, go outside and play until Martha is ready to go, okay?"

"Okay, Mom!" they said, kissed her on each cheek, and ran outside together.

Still smiling, Carolyn placed her coffee mug and plate into the sink, then walked out of the kitchen, across the foyer, and through the parlor to the alcove.

"Captain?" she said, as she separated the curtains concealing the alcove from the parlor. "You wanted to talk to me?"

She saw the captain was sitting at his desk, reading a small, black, leather-bound book, which he closed and tucked into his jacket pocket as she came in. He looked up at her with an inscrutable expression, at first, but immediately, several emotions seemed to flow across his face in quick succession. Carolyn looked at him curiously as she waited for him to speak, but he seemed to be having a problem choosing his words. She wondered greatly at this, since he always seemed so confident in his speech, but she waited patiently. Something was obviously bothering him, she could tell . . . and she really hoped it didn't have to do with her less-than-loving behavior toward him. She loved him, she realized, but the two of them were like the proverbial oil and water, sometimes. That Scripture she had read earlier had stung her conscience, and made her more sensitive to her interactions with her family in particular, and with those in the Schooner Bay community in general.

Finally, he seemed to seize on something to say.

"Mrs. Muir," he began, and stopped. He tried again. "Mrs. Muir . . . I've reconsidered your inviting visitors to my . . . _our_ home."

Carolyn relaxed a bit, and smiled at him. Her response encouraged Daniel tremendously, so he sheepishly gave his left ear a tug as he continued.

"I've decided that it won't pose any threat to our general well-being if you invite some female friends over, now and then, or even some more of your less aggravating relatives. It would be good for the children to see some of their extended family members in their own home, after all . . . as long as they don't disrupt our existences too much."

"Why, thank you, Captain! I really appreciate your tolerance about that," Carolyn said with real gratitude, which warmed the ghost unexpectedly. "And your timing is wonderful! I just got a letter from my cousin, Kathryn, this past week, asking if she could come to visit for a week early next month. I confess, I wasn't looking forward to discussing it with you, but I'd really like her to come—we haven't seen each other since we were kids!"

The captain, for his part, had not expected Mrs. Muir to take his generous concession to heart quite so quickly, and he made a small, strangled sound before clearing his throat and trying again to speak. "Ah . . . another cousin?" he asked, remembering her cousin Harriet's visit.

Carolyn heard the trepidation in his voice, and smiled inwardly.

"Don't worry, Captain Gregg. I actually _like_ this cousin, and I'm sure you will, too, if you give her a chance. We were quite close as children—we're only a few months apart in age—and we were neighbors, until her family moved to Arizona when we were ten." She paused, remembering. "We were Katie and Carrie, best friends besides being first cousins, and just did everything together! We've never seen each other since they moved, but we've always written, back and forth. In fact, Kate was my only relative supportive of my moving up here to Maine with the children after Bobby died. She wrote me a lovely, encouraging letter when she learned of it from her mother, who is _my_ mother's older sister."

Daniel realized then that he would be eternally grateful for Carolyn's cousin Kathryn . . . whether he liked her or not.

"Isn't she married?" he asked, wondering why the woman would be roaming so far away from home by herself.

"Well, she would say so, but she's not married in the usual manner . . . ." Carolyn began.

"Oh? Does she have a ghost around, too?" he quipped, preening a bit, as he grinned at her sidelong.

"Ummm . . . well, you _could_ say that—the Holy Ghost. She's a religious sister, and teaches in a Catholic mission school in western New Mexico. She's on her summer vacation."

"She's Catholic?" the captain asked, quite surprised. "I thought all of your family were Episcopalians and Presbyterians?"

"They are. Kate became a Catholic when she was 24, while she was engaged to be married to a man who was Catholic. _That_ caused quite an uproar in the family, I remember. Of course, everyone blamed her conversion on her fiancé, Bill."

"She became a Catholic to marry him, and then the scoundrel broke their engagement?" Captain Gregg bristled. "Obviously, she was hurt and joined the convent to withdraw from the world!"

"No, I don't think that's what happened, at all. From what I understand, _she_ broke the engagement to join her religious order."

"Indeed?" the captain mused. "I suspect that therein lies a story, Madam. Perhaps, you should interview her for a future article while she is here."

Carolyn cocked her head in thought and looked at him. "You know, that's not a bad idea, Captain. Thank you! Now, you **will** try to not scare her to death before I do that, right?"

"My dear, I promise to be on my very best behavior," he assured her with a smile that made her glow within. "Besides, if I'm not, she just might try to exorcise me!"

With a laugh at the memory _that_ last comment brought to mind, Carolyn said, "Oh, thank you, Captain! I'll write her tonight!"


	2. Chapter 2

The Muir family picked Sister Kathryn up at Logan Airport in Boston nearly four weeks later, and the long drive back home was full of chatter as they caught up on family news.

"So, Carrie, Harriet writes me that you're seeing someone. How is that going?" Kathryn asked as they neared Schooner Bay.

A sudden silence settled in the vehicle, as the children looked at each other, then at their mother as she drove. How she managed to keep the car in the right lane was a wonder, Carolyn thought, desperately.

"I'm so sorry; I've obviously brought up a touchy subject. I should have known, coming from Harriet," Kathryn apologized, ruefully. "Candy, Jonathan, please tell me about your school. What are your favorite subjects?"

The children willingly launched into elaborate descriptions of their school, their teachers, and their friends, as well as their very few non-friends, and soon their station wagon pulled up in front of Gull Cottage.

"Well, here we are!" Carolyn exclaimed, as she got out and stretched.

"Oh, Carrie! What a beautiful location you have here," said Kathryn, as she stepped out and surveyed the house, with the beach and cove below. "No wonder you love it so! If I was on this side of the country, this is **exactly** where I'd want to be, too!"

Candy and Jonathan took Sister Kathryn's suitcase and guitar case up the walk, while Carolyn and Kathryn, carrying her blue daypack, followed more slowly.

"It's such a lovely, old house, Carrie. How blessed you are!" Kathryn said, as she approached.

As Carolyn looked up to see Captain Gregg watching them from the "quarterdeck" as they approached, she silently agreed. She smiled warmly and nodded a greeting to him. He smiled back at her, then looked at Sister Kathryn, dressed in her modest, but practical religious habit—a simple, dark brown, mid-calf-length dress, with a short, beige veil covering most of her hair. A small wooden crucifix hung from a brown cord around her neck. What little did show of her hair was also light brown, somewhat darker than Carolyn's own blonde.

As they entered Gull Cottage, the children were already carrying Kathryn's luggage up the stairs to the guest room, and Martha came out of the kitchen to welcome the two women.

"Kate, this is Martha Grant, our friend and housekeeper. Martha, this is Sister Kathryn Love, my cousin."

"How do you do? It's _so_ nice to meet you." Martha said. "Are you hungry? I can fix you a quick snack that should tide you over until dinner."

"I'm very glad to meet you, too, Martha. Could I have a cup of milk, maybe? That would be very nice, and should be enough for me until dinner."

"Of course!" Martha said. "Why don't you both go into the parlor and rest a bit? Mrs. Muir, would you like something?"

"Is there any coffee?" Carolyn asked, without much hope.

"Well, no," said Martha. "But I can perk some up fresh, if you'd like."

"Yes, please!"

As the two younger women walked into the parlor, Sister Kathryn's eyes—much like Carolyn's had been, well over two years before—were instantly drawn to the captain's portrait over the fireplace.

"Well, now, isn't **he** just drop-dead gorgeous!" she exclaimed, with a wide smile. "Who is he?"

While Carolyn was still chuckling over her cousin's intuitive choice of words, Captain Gregg suddenly appeared to her, leaning against the mantle at the lower left corner of his portrait, smiling a little vainly at her cousin's unintended compliment, she thought.

"Of course, only you can see and hear me, Madam," he began his usual assertion, but suddenly stopped, looking closely at Kathryn.

"Mrs. Muir, it is astounding how much your cousin resembles you! Her hair is a shade darker, but she has the same lovely face and beautiful green eyes as you do. You look like sisters, not cousins, but she looks—well, more than a few years older. You said before that you were only a couple of months apart in age? I suppose it must be due to the desert sun and wind." He well knew what several years' worth of sea spray, wind, and sun did to a mariner's face, after all.

Suddenly, both Carolyn and Daniel realized that Sister Kathryn was no longer looking at the painting. Instead, she was now looking quizzically at the exact spot where the captain lounged against the fireplace.

"Oh, that's Captain Daniel Gregg," Carolyn said, nervously. "He built Gull Cottage over 100 years ago."

"Hmmm?" murmured Kathryn, distracted.

Carolyn gestured to the portrait. "That's Captain Daniel Gregg," she repeated.

Kathryn's eyes shifted to the painting, then back to where the ghost was standing.

"Oh, thank you," she said, absently. Then, under her breath, she whispered, "And who are _you_?"

Daniel looked at Carolyn, and shrugged.

"I haven't chosen to allow her to see or hear me, Madam. But she seems to sense my presence, nonetheless."

He popped over to the parlor door, and Carolyn's cousin slowly turned to face him. The captain popped once more to stand next to Carolyn, and again, Kathryn turned in his direction.

"Katie, are you okay?" Carolyn had to say _something_. "Why don't you sit down? Here's Martha with our drinks."

Captain Gregg vanished from the room entirely, and Kathryn's attention snapped back to Carolyn's face. She smiled, a bit self-consciously.

"I'm sorry. I tuned out, I'm afraid. It sometimes happens when I'm tired."

"Of course, you're tired, Kate! You've had a long trip, today. When you've finished your milk, I'll show you to your room, and you can rest awhile before dinner."

"Yes, thank you, that'll probably help," Kathryn said, then went on, "Just to let you know, Carrie, I do realize you're a very busy writer, so I want you to understand that I don't need you to entertain me while I'm here. I don't want to disrupt your life at all. I just needed a change of scenery from the desert Southwest for a little while, before school starts, again. Quiet time to just sit and read on the porch, and long walks on the beach or into the village will be just the thing! And your children are a joy. Maybe, they can take me to some of their special places, if they're willing."

Carolyn mentally breathed a sigh of relief. That _had_ been concerning her. She did have some deadlines coming up, and there was still that article for the church newsletter that was on the back burner. "Oh, I'm sure they will be happy to give you the grand tour," she assured her cousin.

"Okay, I need a nap," Kathryn said, decisively, placing her empty milk cup down on the coffee table, and standing up.

"Of course," agreed Carolyn. "Let's go upstairs."

A couple of hours later, Sister Kathryn came downstairs to join the family in the kitchen. She had changed into a dark brown skirt, which fell well below her knees, and a beige tunic, both made of a lightweight summer fabric. She wore the same cross she'd worn when she arrived, but had removed her veil, revealing wavy, short-cropped hair, streaked with a few strands of gray.

Kathryn happily greeted everyone, and sat down at the table. Martha dished up steaming bowls of fish chowder to everyone, and placed a large bowl of salad and a basket of warm, crusty bread on the table.

After Martha sat down, too, everyone looked at Sister Kathryn, expectantly.

"What?" she asked, her forehead puckering.

With a smile, Carolyn said, "We're all waiting for you to say grace, Kate."

"Oh, right," Kathryn smiled back, and loudly said, "Grace!"

The kids laughed, appreciating her humor. Then Kathryn quieted for a moment, grasped Carolyn's and Candy's hands on either side of her, bowed her head, and prayed, "Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty, through Christ, Our Lord. Amen."

"Amen!" echoed everyone else, and they began to eat the simple but delicious food Martha had prepared, as they asked Sister Kathryn about her work, and the life of the sisters in the American Southwest.

At one point, finding the topic interesting, the captain materialized to the eyes of his family, and stood slightly behind and between Carolyn and Kathryn. Both Carolyn and Daniel noticed that their visitor unconsciously shifted her chair slightly as she talked, seemingly to include him in the conversation, and wondered at it. Carolyn risked a quick look up at Daniel's face, silently promising to discuss it later in their cabin.

"Katie," she said to her cousin during a lull in the discussion, "I was thinking that I'd like to interview you for a possible article sometime while you're here. Would that be okay with you?"

"Oh, goodness!" Sister Kathryn exclaimed. "Who would be interested in reading about me?"

"Well, our family will be, if no one else—but I bet lots of people would find your story fascinating. I'd just have to pitch it to the right market."

"Oh . . . okay, sure. Just let me know when!"


	3. Chapter 3

"Well, she is obviously aware of you, in some way," Carolyn said to the captain in their room, once everyone else had gone to bed. "What do you think?"

"Some people are more 'tuned-in,' as they say nowadays, to the spiritual plane by nature," Daniel replied, thoughtfully. "In your cousin's case, her religious calling might heighten that even more. Her whole life is ultimately focused on eternal things, after all."

Carolyn looked at him with some surprise. "I don't know much about the Catholic perspective on life, but you apparently know somewhat more. How is it that you do?"

"My dear, don't tell me you are so used to my presence that you forget I now _exist_ in eternity!" he chided her gently. "Besides, my mother is Catholic, and, as a dutiful spiritual daughter of Saint Patrick, she saw to it that I was properly baptized, as well. I remember her reading her Bible and praying the rosary when I was quite young, and her teaching me my first prayers. In fact, her family's being Catholic is the main reason they immigrated to North America in the early 1800s."

Carolyn, completely astounded by this revelation, gasped, "You're _Catholic_? Is heaven sectarian, then?" Until now, focused as she had been on their unusual romance, she had never even considered that Daniel might have any specific religious beliefs, at all. What little discussion they had had on spiritual matters up to this point had been very generic in content.

"No, my dear, those kinds of divisions are strictly held within the minds of arrogant mortals. Those in heaven share in a universal love for God. That's what the word, 'catholic,' means, you know—'universal'—and thus, it also implies unity. Denominations and sects do not support that, and so, cannot exist in the heavenly realm."

The lovely woman before him was silent for a few moments as she mentally processed what Captain Gregg had just told her. Then, she asked, "You said your mother's family came to this country because they were Catholic? Why was that?"

"The Protestant English invaded and annexed Ireland, and tried to force the native Irish to forsake their Catholic faith. My Irish forebears saw the writing on the wall, so to speak, quite early on, and began to plan to emigrate to more charitable shores. By that time, though, my English father, God bless 'im, was completely head-over-heels in love with my mother, and he provided her whole family safe passage to Boston on his ship."

"Your father was Protestant? However did they manage to get married?" Carolyn asked, sensing an interesting story.

"With great difficulty, and he was not truly a Protestant, but I'll tell you that tale, later. Right now, we're trying to decide if you should introduce Sister Kathryn to me, aren't we?"

"Yes, I guess we are," Carolyn recollected. "It doesn't seem like she's the sort to get the screaming meemies if I did, and it would probably make the rest of her visit much more comfortable for everyone."

"On the other hand, she's only going to be here for a week, so maybe it really isn't necessary. Surely, we can all hold the charade together that long."

"The adults probably can, but I'm not so sure about Candy and Jonathan, not to mention a certain little fuzz-ball who always betrays you. You know, I think we should just mull it over until tomorrow, and then decide."

"Aye. I believe it is wise to sleep on this matter," Captain Gregg agreed. "Good-night, my dear."


	4. Chapter 4

As Carolyn danced down the stairs to breakfast the next morning, the front door opened, and Sister Kathryn walked in, wearing clothing similar to that she had on the evening before, and holding a slender, red book in her hand.

"Good morning, Kate," Carolyn said with a smile. "Did you sleep well?"

"Oh, yes, indeed," answered Kathryn. "This sea air is wonderful! And your front porch is a lovely, restful place to praise God in the morning. Thank you so much for letting me come!"

"Well, we're certainly glad to have you."

"Ladies, breakfast is ready," Martha called from the kitchen. "Candy and Jonathan are already eating, so if you want something, you'd better get in here, quick!"

Kathryn placed her book on the telephone table, and the two women entered the kitchen together and sat down at the table, where they helped themselves to sausage, eggs, toast, and coffee.

"Say, Carrie, could I borrow your telephone book for a few minutes after breakfast?" asked Kathryn.

"Of course," Carolyn replied. "Who are you looking for?"

"Well, I need to find a Catholic church for Sunday Mass, at least," Kathryn said.

Captain Gregg suddenly appeared to the family at that point, and said to Carolyn, "Tell her the priest from Keystone comes in every Sunday to offer Mass at the community center at noon."

Carolyn nodded, wondered briefly how he knew that, and repeated the information to Kathryn, who was again looking at where the captain stood behind Carolyn's chair, her head cocked slightly, with a puzzled expression on her face.

That decided Carolyn. "Kids, Martha, we need to have a family meeting in the parlor after breakfast, so please put your plans for the day on hold for a few minutes. Kate, would you join us, too, please?"

"Um…okay, sure," Kathryn agreed, and studiously concentrated on eating her food, but still glancing the captain's way every so often.

Thirty minutes later, everyone, including the captain, had gathered in the parlor, seating themselves on the sofa and chairs under the gaze of Captain Gregg's portrait. All eyes looked at Carolyn, expectantly, Martha and the children guessing what was coming.

Carolyn took a deep breath, then began, "Katie, we're going to share something with you that no one else in our extended family knows about, and which we trust you to not speak of outside of this house." She paused, awaiting her cousin's agreement. At Kathryn's nod, Carolyn continued, "We have another family member to whom we would like to introduce you."

Kathryn raised her eyebrows, very curious, but said nothing.

Carolyn gestured to the ghost of Gull Cottage, standing by the fireplace, who, on that cue, simply _wished_ to be visible to Kathryn, and appeared to her as well. "Sister Kathryn, this is Captain Daniel Gregg. Captain Gregg, Sister Kathryn Love," Carolyn said formally, and waited nervously for her cousin's reaction.

Kathryn blinked a couple of times, then smiled, and calmly said, "I'm very happy to meet you, Captain. This certainly explains a lot!"

Everyone in the room who had breath had been holding it, and released it as one, laughing in sheer relief.

"I am most pleased to make your acquaintance, as well, Sister Kathryn," replied the captain, with a charming smile on his handsome, bearded face. "I must say, you _are_ taking this remarkably well!"

"I'm a Catholic teaching sister who has lived among the Navajo for many years. The supernatural is just part of everyday life!" She shrugged and smiled back.

For the next hour, each person described to their guest how he or she had first met the captain. Kathryn listened and nodded, and asked a question to clarify from time to time, until she had been caught up on all the adventures in Gull Cottage since the Muirs had first moved in.

"Thank you so much for trusting me enough to share this with me," Kathryn told them. "This is really amazing. Carrie, you should write a book about your lives here, changing names and a few other things to preserve privacy, of course. I'm sure it would sell like hotcakes!"

"Maybe, someday," Carolyn agreed. "I've got other projects percolating, right now, though. Speaking of which, how about my interviewing you tonight, after dinner? Would you be comfortable with that?"

"Certainly, Carrie! I would enjoy it."

The morning weather report predicted the day to be a nice one, so, after their meeting, Candy and Jonathan decided to take Kathryn for a long walk on the beach, intending to explore the entire curve of the cove with her. Kathryn exchanged her sturdy, brown leather sandals for a pair of black sneakers, in order to be more comfortable on their walk. Since they didn't know what time during the day they'd be back, Martha packed them a lunch of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, some apples, some cookies, and a couple of large dog biscuits which Sister Kathryn put into her daypack to carry, along with a small camera, a first aid kit, and a flashlight. The kids would swap off carrying a canteen of fresh water for all of them to share.

As they walked down to the beach, Scruffy running along ahead, Candy asked, a little bashfully, "Er . . . what should Jonathan and I call you? Sister Kathryn?"

"Oh, no, nothing so formal! You're my cousins, after all, not my students. You can call me either 'Kate' or 'Katie,' like your mom does, or if you _really_ want to be fancy, 'Kathryn.'"

Candy smiled up at her happily. Jonathan piped up, "I'm really glad you know about the captain, so we don't have to be careful about talking about him around you!"

"Does that get to be a problem, Jonathan?"

"Oh, yeah! When Grandfather and Grandmother Muir came to visit us here the first time, I kept talking about Captain Gregg teaching me stuff before I could stop myself—and then had to pretend I hadn't said anything about him at all when Grandfather asked about him! But I was a lot younger, then," he added. "But I made such a mess of things that the captain had to get Claymore to pretend to be him so they'd stop giving Mom a hard time about me not having _mailfluence_, whatever that is."

"Male influence?" Kathryn suggested.

"Yeah, that's it!" Jonathan confirmed. "Then, last year, Grandpa and Grandma Williams came up to visit, and tried to give Mom a surprise wedding to Captain Gregg, but it was _really_ Claymore, again."

"Yes, I heard about that," Kathryn told them, then muttered to herself, "I can't imagine what Aunt Emily was thinking! It wouldn't have even been _legal_ without a wedding license, and no one can get one of those except the people getting married—which would have removed the element of surprise."

She shrugged, and decided to change the subject. "Okay, so, who's Claymore?"

"He's our landlord, Claymore Gregg," Candy told her. "He says he's Captain Gregg's great-great-grandnephew, but the captain says he isn't. Anyhow, Gull Cottage belongs to him because Captain Gregg accidentally died suddenly, without leaving a will, and somehow Claymore inherited it, after his ancestors died. But that was long before we moved here, so I don't know much about how that happened."

"Does Claymore see and hear the captain?" Kathryn asked.

Both children giggled. "Oh, yeah!" Candy said.

"He's really afraid of him!" Jonathan exclaimed. "He faints a lot when he comes to our house and sees Captain Gregg—sometimes, the captain yells at him, too—and Martha has to splash water in his face to wake him up."

As they hiked along the beach, tossing sea-worn sticks for Scruffy to fetch, and stopping now and then to pick up shells and bits of sea glass for souvenirs, Kathryn mused to herself, as she often had throughout the years, that teachers learn so much about children's families' lives from the kids, themselves . . . but _this_ family was certainly beyond the usual!


	5. Chapter 5

Meanwhile, back in their cabin at Gull Cottage, Carolyn and Daniel were discussing the morning's meeting.

"My dear, your cousin is a very remarkable woman," the captain commented, admiringly. "Almost as remarkable as you! She hardly batted an eye when I appeared to her. Had you ever written her anything about me, not mentioning my . . . er . . . state of existence, of course?"

"No, but she _had_ heard from Harriet that I was 'seeing' someone, so perhaps that prepared her, somewhat . . . but I can't think how information like that could possibly prepare someone to meet a ghost!"

"Well, as she said, she is a religious sister, which _would_ incline her to an acceptance of the supernatural, I imagine . . . but whatever could she have meant about living among Indians in relation to that?"

"That's a very good question to ask her this evening, Captain," said Carolyn, writing a note to herself on a pad of yellow paper. "Can you think of anything else someone would like to know about a young woman who had broken her engagement to go teach on an Indian reservation?"

"Aside from 'WHY'?" asked Captain Gregg. He slowly shook his head in wonderment. "No, not at the moment, but you've got until supper to think of some, don't you?"

"You're having something of a problem with Kate's choosing to join a religious order, instead of getting married, aren't you?" Carolyn observed, perceptively. "On the one hand, you think she's 'remarkable,' but on the other, you consider her life and work to be—what?—a _waste_, maybe? I guess that's a question I could ask her: How does she answer people who suggest that to her? I'm sure you're not the only one who's wondered, after all."

"A woman as beautiful as she is should have married and borne children!" the captain declared, with a sudden eruption of his typical, self-righteous bluster.

"Okay, that's a good angle, too. I'll ask her what she does when she meets _that_ sort of chauvinistic attitude!" Carolyn grinned at him brightly. "Thanks!"

Daniel, now feeling more than a little discomfited, said, "Don't mention it, my dear." Then, giving his earlobe an embarrassed tug, he disappeared, not liking the direction this conversation was taking, at all. His voice echoed in the room, after he vanished, however. "Really, I mean that—don't mention it," he repeated.

Materializing down in the foyer, the captain noticed the book that Sister Kathryn had left on the telephone table before going into the kitchen for breakfast. Picking it up curiously, he looked at the title, **Shorter Christian Prayer**, and idly flipped through it. Not surprisingly, it appeared to be a prayer book containing some of the Psalms and other selections from Holy Writ arranged in daily portions for morning and evening devotions. Appropriate reading for someone trying to live a godly life, Daniel mused approvingly, but there was something about the book that seemed odd, nonetheless. He could not pinpoint what seemed peculiar, but whatever it was, was not _bad_, just . . . strange, somehow.


	6. Chapter 6

"Really," Sister Kathryn told Carolyn in the parlor after dinner, "I don't mind if Captain Gregg wants to sit in on our conversation. I would appreciate his being visible, though!"

Carolyn looked confused, briefly, but understanding dawned on her face as Daniel materialized on the couch next to her, lounging with both of his arms sprawled across the back of it, and his legs comfortably crossed.

"Ha! There'll be none of your invisible eavesdropping while Kate's around!" she laughed.

The spirit had the good grace to appear sheepish, but the two women smiled at him, reassuringly, and he relaxed, once again considering how much alike they looked.

"Okay, Kate, I know about your childhood up until your family moved out to Arizona," began Carolyn. "What happened to you after that that you feel is significant in leading you to where you are today?"

"Yes, as you know, my father got a job with a trucking company based in Tucson," Kathryn said. "He had quite a fascination for the 'Wild West' mythology, and could really indulge it, there."

Carolyn chuckled and nodded, remembering her Uncle David's intense enjoyment of television Westerns.

Captain Gregg, however, looked a little disapproving. The man took his family away from the sea to a _desert_? Was he insane? Why didn't he just take them all the way to California, where he could have had both his cowboys **and** the sea? He suddenly noticed Sister Kathryn watching him with amusement, and quickly changed his expression to something more neutral. This dratted woman was becoming almost as irritating as Carolyn was . . . when he wasn't admiring her, that is.

"Well," Kathryn continued, "on weekends when he wasn't working, he and my mother would take our whole family to visit various local sites like Tombstone, hiking in Madeira Canyon . . . ."

"Madeira?" the captain interrupted, winking at Carolyn, who blushed attractively in response, and shook her head at him.

Kathryn arched an eyebrow. "Yes, Madeira," she said, a tad reprovingly, it seemed. "And in Saguaro National Monument, so we could see those stereotypically western cacti close up. We also visited some of the Indian reservations, and visited their mission churches. We happened to meet the principal of the mission school at one of them, and we were given an impromptu tour. On later visits, I became acquainted with more of the teaching sisters, sometimes visiting them on my own when I was old enough to drive. They eventually inspired me to major in elementary education when I started college at the University of Arizona. It was there that I met Bill. He was a business major a couple of years older than I."

"What was Bill like?" Carolyn questioned.

"Oh, pretty much the same as he is now," Kathryn responded. "He's a loving, kind, and generous soul. It was very easy for me to fall in love with him, and he with me. We finally got engaged after I'd graduated and taught for a year, and by then, he was pretty well established in his father's business. It was about that time that I became Catholic, but more because of the influence of the sisters I'd known as a teenager than Bill's. He'd have loved me no matter what religion I professed."

"It sounds like you're still in touch with him, after all these years," Carolyn said, thoughtfully.

"Oh, yes, we're great friends! He's very generous to my order and our mission, too."

"Then, why didn't you marry him?" Captain Gregg interrupted again, exasperated. "You _said_ you were in love with him!" Why on earth would two people who loved each other, and were _able_ to marry, **not** marry?

"Captain . . . ," Carolyn said, in a warning tone.

"It's okay, Carrie," Kathryn said, completely unruffled. "I'm really asked that quite a lot—and usually by men.

"This may sound strange, or peculiar, or whatever," she continued, then paused, and suddenly leaned forward to look directly into the sea captain's eyes. "But, somewhere along the way, in addition to falling in love with Bill, I fell in love with Jesus, too—and I found I had to take what **He** wanted for me into consideration, as well."

To his great horror, Captain Gregg unexpectedly found his eyes filling with what seemed to be unmanly tears, and swiftly lowered his gaze from Kathryn's to pinch the bridge of his nose. Annoyed with himself, for that had never before happened in his spectral afterlife, he vanished to regain control.

Carolyn, mystified by the captain's behavior more than by what Kathryn had said, was silent for a moment. Hadn't he said before that Kate's being a sister was a "calling"? Why had he gotten so emotional when she simply confirmed it?

"So, you feel you were 'called' by Jesus to become a nun?" Carolyn asked.

Kathryn, also puzzled by the captain's reaction, looked back to her cousin.

"Technically, I'm a sister, not a nun. Nuns are enclosed in monasteries, and their primary work is prayer. Religious sisters are engaged in active ministries, like teaching, social work, and other work like that—in addition to prayer, of course.

"And, yes, I **did** sense God's call to religious life, but I tried to resist. One part of me really _did_ long to marry Bill and raise a family—which would have been **exactly** the right thing to do, if that's what God had planned for Bill and me. But I felt strongly divided, and pulled to the religious life, too, and that eventually became stronger, over time. Even Bill sensed it, it became so strong."

Captain Gregg reappeared in his previous spot, looking every bit the master of himself as he usually did, and apparently still interested in their conversation. Both women acknowledged his return with welcoming smiles.

"How did he react?" Carolyn asked.

Sister Kathryn smiled gently in remembrance. "Bill is so wonderful! He, too, loves God, you know. It was just as difficult for him, but he finally said, 'Well, not every love has to join in marriage. But we're still in this together, Kate.'"

This time, it was Carolyn's eyes that suddenly overflowed with tears, as she fixed them on those of her beloved Daniel, both oblivious to Sister Kathryn's presence in that intense moment. "'Not every love has to join in marriage, but we're still in this together,'" she repeated in a whisper, profoundly moved.

Sister Kathryn, empathetic tears now glimmering in her own eyes as she regarded the two of them, quietly got up and left the room.


	7. Chapter 7

_(Note to readers: At this point in my writing, this story suddenly took an unplanned turn. I spent a little time considering whether to even include this chapter or radically re-write it, but ultimately, I finally decided to just leave it as it emerged. While what takes place in this chapter may not happen very often in the average American family—but much more frequently than having a **ghost** involved in family life, I would guess—it is really a fairly common occurrence in the life of any religious sister engaged in education and/or parish work.)_

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Crossing the foyer, Sister Kathryn entered the kitchen and greeted Martha, who had just finished up the dishes. Candy and Jonathan were drying and putting them away in the cupboards.

"All done with your interview, already?" asked Martha.

"No, I don't think so," Kathryn replied, still a little distracted by the bittersweet scene she had just witnessed. "I think we're just taking a break."

"Maybe, it's time for dessert, then. How does apple pie sound?"

"Heavenly! Thank you, Martha! Can I help you in any way?

"I guess you can put on the tea kettle."

As Martha prepared to cut the pie, Kathryn filled the tea kettle at the sink, placed it on a stove burner, then struck a match and lit the fire under it.

"You seem very practiced at that," Martha observed.

Kathryn grinned at her, and said, "Well, we don't exactly have all the modern conveniences at the mission. We're really fortunate to just have indoor plumbing!"

As she turned from the stove, she saw that Candy had moved closer to her, obviously wanting to speak to her, having thrown the red-checked dish towel over her left shoulder.

"Katie," Candy said, then stopped, still feeling a little shy using her older cousin's childhood nickname, like her mother did. Kathryn looked down at her with a smile, waiting for her to continue.

"Yes?" she prompted the little girl gently.

"Don't you want to have kids?"

Kathryn, knowing how children's minds sometimes tracked, guessed that Candy was asking her why she had never married, so she could have children. Religious vocations were not part of these children's world, after all. It was probably just chance that her train of thought coincided with the timing of her mother's interview.

"Candy, Sweetie, I have **lots** of kids! Would _you_ kids like to see some pictures of them?"

"Yeah!" exclaimed Candy and Jonathan, together.

When Sister Kathryn returned to the kitchen with her small photo album, she found that Carolyn and Captain Gregg had joined the family there. Everyone, including Martha, leaned over the table to see her photographs of some of the smiling, dark-haired children who went to school at the mission. In a couple of pictures, a man with a thick, silver mustache and a broad smile posed affectionately with several children, a battered, gray Stetson on his head. Kathryn pointed him out to Carolyn.

"That's Bill. He drives out from Tucson to visit us several times a year."

"Really?" said Carolyn, impressed. "He must be an extraordinary man."

"Indeed!" said the captain, leaning over her shoulder to look more closely at the image.

Sister Kathryn smiled warmly. "Yes, he is! And he's one of our most generous benefactors."

"Does he bring his family with him when he comes to visit your mission?" Captain Gregg asked.

"No, Bill's parents both died several years ago," Kathryn told him, "and he never married. Whenever I manage to get home to visit my family, I usually go to church with Bill and his sister's family."

Martha sighed, appreciatively. "The man really loves you, I guess."

At her words, Daniel and Carolyn exchanged a sympathetic glance that would have spoken volumes, if anyone else had noticed.

Kathryn looked up at Martha, and nodded. "Yes, he does," she said, simply, and changed the subject.

"You can't really see it in these pictures, but healthy Navajo children have a really beautiful, rosy glow to their skin. They are very attractive people. These group pictures are of my students last year, and these"—Kathryn flipped a page to photographs of individual children—"are my godchildren."

Candy and Jonathan gasped. There were at _least_ eight Indian children, of various ages, looking back at them.

"_God_children?" Jonathan asked. "What kind of children are they?"

"Well, when their parents decided to have them baptized, they asked me to be one of the special people to help them teach their kids about God. It's a great honor, but also a great responsibility."

Jonathan's eyes lit up. Imagine—kids got to have another set of parents, in addition to their own moms and dads!

"Mom!" Jonathan turned to Carolyn, excitedly. "Whose godchildren are me and Candy?"

"'Candy and I,'" Kathryn corrected, automatically.

"Candy and I," Jonathan dutifully repeated, still looking at his mother.

Carolyn's jaw dropped slightly for a moment, as she gathered her thoughts.

"Er—ah—actually, um, no one's. The two of you were never baptized," Carolyn said in a subdued voice.

While Sister Kathryn's eyes widened in surprise, a rarely shocked Captain Gregg exclaimed, "Madam!"

"We were going to," Carolyn said defensively. "It wasn't that Bobby and I didn't want to—we just never got around to it . . . ."

"I know you never wrote me that you had with either of the children," Kathryn recalled. "But I just assumed, since your family **is** Presbyterian . . . ."

"Well, now, that just means the children get to choose for themselves to be baptized," put in the sensible Martha.

"Yes, it does," agreed Kathryn. "They're both past the age when a parent can present them for Baptism, at least, in the Catholic Church. I don't know what the rule for the Baptism of children is for Presbyterians. **My** branch of the family is Episcopalian."

"Mom, Mom! Please, _please_, can I get baptized?" Jonathan abruptly began begging loudly. Another set of parents _might_ mean more presents at Christmas and birthdays!

"Yeah, me, too!" Candy chimed in, suddenly catching the same thought.

"Please, please, **please**!" they pleaded together, both bouncing up and down in excitement.

Carolyn was stunned, and stared at her two children in utter astonishment, her mouth agape.

Suddenly, there was a loud crack of thunder overhead, and everyone instantly became silent, the Muir family members turning, almost as one, to look at Captain Gregg, who stood at the end of the table looking quite stern, with his legs apart and his hands on his hips.

"Children, belay that whining!" he said sharply. "Baptism is not to be sought lightly. You must learn about what it means, **and** what it requires, before you may choose it for yourselves."

He happened to glance at Sister Kathryn. She nodded approvingly at him, with a slight smile. She could see he held authority within this family, even though he was—well, _disembodied_, now.

"Your mother may arrange for you to take instruction, _if_ you show proper maturity for your ages," he continued. "Now, go and get ready for bed. Then, you may come back downstairs for awhile."

The children left the room without another peep, and climbed the stairs to the second floor.


	8. Chapter 8

Carolyn finally closed her mouth, ran her right hand through her short-cropped hair, and said, "Whew! Where the heck did **that** come from?! My kids have suddenly gotten religion?"

Martha chuckled, as she got up from the table to get some pie for the adults. "More likely, they suddenly got a little greedy. The kids are great, Mrs. Muir, but they're not angels!"

Carolyn looked at Martha, then at her cousin in confusion. "Huh?"

Kathryn grinned. "You know—Baptism, godparents, _presents_ . . . ?"

"Ohhhh!" Carolyn laughed, suddenly understanding. "Now, I see!"

"You might wait a week or two, my dear, or even a month, and ask them if they still want to be baptized," the captain said. "And, if they still think they do, then you might want to arrange with Reverend Farley for them to be prepared for it. That's just a suggestion, of course." He knew how sensitive she was to perceived interference in how she raised her children. He didn't want to get lumped into the same category with her in-laws, after all.

Carolyn nodded. "Yes, you're right. It's something their father and I should have taken care of long ago, but didn't. Now, it's pretty much up to them."

"And the grace of God," added Sister Kathryn.

Carolyn nodded again, and said, "Kate, do you mind if we continue our interview tomorrow evening, after dinner? I really don't feel up to it, now, after that tempest just blew through."

"Okay, that's fine with me," agreed Kathryn. "You know, I brought my guitar with me. How about, when the kids come back down, we have ourselves a little 'hootenanny' before bed? Just a few songs—I have to get my musical skills back up to par before school starts, again."

"Oh, yes, that sounds nice! Please do!" exclaimed Carolyn eagerly.

The captain, remembering the last guitar player who had visited Gull Cottage, also looked interested. On his last voyage to New York prior to his retirement, his ship had transported a small group of Italian religious sisters on their way to minister to immigrants from their own country, but he did not recall any of them playing a musical instrument, so meeting a sister who did was a new experience for him. What would Sister Kathryn's living room concert sound like?

Candy and Jonathan came back downstairs with Kathryn, dressed in their pajamas. The children settled onto the floor in front of the fireplace, wiggling a little in anticipation. The woman eased onto the forward edge of an armchair, opened the guitar case on the floor, and pulled out an obviously well used folk guitar. Kathryn tuned it for a few minutes, then strummed it a little, thinking about what to sing, first, as the adults—including one ghostly one—gathered in the room, arranging themselves on the couch and the second chair. She decided to begin with an old favorite, "Kumbaya," to warm everyone up a bit.

"Kumbaya, my Lord, kumbaya," Sister Kathryn began singing in a pleasant soprano voice. The two other women and the children joined in for the rest of the verse. Captain Gregg looked on, amazed. He had never heard this song, but his family all apparently knew it. It did not take him long to pick it up, however, and he sang along in a smooth baritone through all of the laughing, crying, praying, and singing verses. He had had plenty of experience learning sea chanties in his earthly lifetime, after all.

Sister Kathryn's next choice was "Born Free," a recently popular song from a movie of the same name about an African lioness named Elsa, which the children also knew. This she followed up with a lesser-known song, "Let There Be Peace on Earth."

After the third song, Kathryn paused.

"I always end with a love song," she told the gathered family. "It's sort of my trademark—you know, because of my last name."

"A nun singing a love song," Martha muttered to Carolyn, incredulously. "Oh, **this** should be good!"

Overhearing the whispered remark, Kathryn grinned at the seldom-abashed Martha, and continued, "This is a song called 'Charity,' a word which, in an earlier time, had a broader meaning than it does, now. It was once simply another word for love."

She resumed strumming her guitar, and began to sing a beautiful, heartfelt song that Carolyn had never heard before, but gradually recognized as most of the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians, which she had read and pondered over a month ago. Carolyn looked up at Daniel, and was surprised to see that his eyes again appeared awash with tears, and that he had an expression of deep longing on his face as Sister Kathryn concluded the song. _Twice in one day_, she thought, puzzled. _What's this all about?_

The captain, suddenly remembering himself, met Carolyn's eyes. Once again aghast at his emotional reaction, he abruptly disappeared.


	9. Chapter 9

The next day was Sunday, and Sister Kathryn rode into Schooner Bay with the family when they drove to the 10:00 o'clock morning service at their little Presbyterian church. As they dropped her off at the community center, she assured Carolyn that she would be fine walking back to Gull Cottage after noon Mass.

"Really, the other sisters and I walk much farther distances back on the 'Rez,'" she explained. "I can use the exercise, and the good, fresh, sea air, too."

"We can't let you walk back alone!" Carolyn protested.

Captain Gregg suddenly materialized to his family's eyes at Sister Kathryn's side, wearing his usual pea coat and cap. This was the first time the family had seen him this morning, and he hadn't joined Carolyn in the captain's cabin the night before, as he was in the habit of doing, which had distressed her somewhat.

"Mrs. Muir is quite right," he told Kathryn. As she began to object, he turned to Carolyn. "Sister Kathryn will not be alone. I shall accompany her, and assure her safe return."

Carolyn, though astonished, was reassured, and Kathryn prudently agreed. She waved as the Muirs drove off, and the captain subsequently vanished. She didn't feel his invisible presence lingering, so she shrugged, turned, and walked into the building alone. She was very early for Mass, but the priest from Keystone had already arrived, and was sitting on a metal folding chair in a large meeting room, praying with his breviary while drinking coffee. A half-eaten apple fritter sat on a paper plate on the chair beside him. A short, jolly-looking man, he looked up as she entered the room.

"Well, good mornin'!" he exclaimed, with a distinct Irish lilt to his voice, as he noticed her religious habit and veil. "I'm Father Moran. So, we have a sister in town, now, do we?"

"Yes, Father. I'm Sister Kathryn Love. I'm here on vacation, visiting some cousins. I've been working in western New Mexico, on the Navajo Reservation, for the past several years."

"My goodness, this must be quite a change for you, then," Father Moran commented.

Kathryn nodded. "Yes, but I needed to come here, this year."

"Who are your cousins?"

"The Muir family," she told him. "They live in Gull Cottage," she added.

The priest's blue eyes snapped up to hers. "Gull Cottage? That's interesting."

"Why?" she asked, but, of course, already suspected the answer.

"Well, there are . . . _speculations_ about Gull Cottage, around these parts. I don't know anything about the family living there, now, but I gather from what I've heard, they've lasted a lot longer than any other tenants. T'is said the place is haunted."

Kathryn raised her eyebrows. "Really? What have you heard?"

The priest placed his breviary on the table, as he gathered his thoughts to answer her.

"I'm told that a crusty, old sea captain—of good, Irish stock, no less—built himself a sturdy home, then, one night, committed suicide there, and has haunted it ever since. There was an article in the local newspaper, the **Schooner Bay Beacon**, fairly recently, that cast doubt on the suicide judgment, though."

_I wouldn't call __**that**__ particular sea captain "old,"_ Kathryn thought, and said, "I'll bet the article was written by my cousin, Carolyn Muir. She's the writer who lives in Gull Cottage. Why do people think the captain haunts it?"

"Most think it's because he committed suicide, but I'm inclined to disbelieve the suicide theory, myself. I think something else must be keeping his soul bound to the temporal world."

"So, you actually think there really **is** a ghost haunting Gull Cottage?" Sister Kathryn asked.

Father Moran rolled his twinkling eyes at her. "Sister, I'm _Irish_. Of course, I am open to the possibility!"

Kathryn laughed quickly in response, and then sobered. "Do you think the captain had a funeral, Father? I mean, since it was determined he'd committed suicide?"

"At that time, probably not. I'm just assuming he was Catholic, since he was of Irish extraction, but that's not necessarily a given. If he were, he would most likely have had a simple graveside service, and have been buried in unconsecrated ground. There may not even have been a priest officiating, since there have never been many Catholics in this small corner of the state, in spite of being so close to French Canada."

"How sad!" she exclaimed, in genuine sorrow.

"Yes, indeed," agreed the priest, as he looked at his watch. A few people had entered and now sat in the back of the room. He rose from his chair, pulling a rolled-up purple stole and a business card from his pocket. "Well, I see it's time to hear some Confessions before getting ready for Mass." Father Moran looked down at her intently for a moment. "Please let me know if there's anything I can ever do for _any_ of the inhabitants of Gull Cottage," he said, as he handed her his card.

Sister Kathryn nodded, accepted the card, and smiled at him somewhat pensively. She suddenly realized the priest had not asked her if _she_ had ever seen anything strange in Gull Cottage. It almost seemed like he simply accepted that she had.


	10. Chapter 10

When Mass started 45 minutes later, and the small congregation rose for the processional, Kathryn suddenly sensed Captain Gregg's presence to her right. Without even thinking about it, she took one step to the left to accommodate him. He materialized to her in the place she had just vacated, cap in hand, and smiled at her, then turned his attention to the front.

After the opening prayer, Daniel leaned down to her ear, and remarked, "I miss the Latin. I've been wondering—what happened to it?"

"I'll tell you later," Kathryn whispered back, then quickly refocused on the celebration, after first winking and smiling at the little girl in front of her who had turned around to stare at her with questioning eyes.

During the Scripture readings, she sneaked a few quick glances at the captain, trying to assess his thoughts about what was being read. Soon after, she did the same during Father Moran's sermon, as well. Captain Gregg's face remained carefully neutral, throughout, however. _He must realize I'm watching him_, she thought, a little ashamed of herself. Nevertheless, she risked another glance at Captain Gregg following the Consecration, and witnessed such a expression of ardent longing on his strong, bearded face, that her heart suddenly squeezed in pity, and sympathetic tears welled up in her eyes. _Poor soul!_ she thought. After sending a quick prayer for him heavenward, she resolved that she would find some kindness to do for him before she left Schooner Bay.

True to his word, the captain accompanied Sister Kathryn as she walked back up the coast road to Gull Cottage after Mass. She set quite a brisk pace, he noted with some surprise, but not too brisk for his long-legged, spectral gait, of course. Her formal, but still practical habit was much less cumbersome than what ladies had worn in his day, even that of the very few religious sisters of his acquaintance.

As they walked, Kathryn tried to explain what had happened to the Latin in the Mass. At the recent Vatican II Church council, one of the matters the assembled fathers had decided was that vernacular language could also be used in the Mass, as well as Latin, but that in America, most priests now chose to use English to the complete exclusion of Latin. Captain Gregg nodded in understanding, but looked slightly disapproving.

"I go every Sunday, you know," Captain Gregg confided to Sister Kathryn.

"To Mass?" she responded, in surprise. The idea of ghosts going to Mass was a new one to her. The Diné—the Navajo—she had worked among for so long would be horrified if ghosts of their loved ones were wandering around, she reflected.

He seemed amused by her astonishment. "Yes," he smiled, "after I've accompanied the family to hear Reverend Farley's admonitions for the week."

"Why?"

"I go to remind myself of what I'm looking forward to. It's too easy to forget. The living are very fortunate—they can unite with God in a way the deceased cannot . . . at least, not yet, this side of heaven."

_**That**__ explains the expression on his face during Mass_, Kathryn thought, with some relief. _He's enroute to heaven, but is still attached to Gull Cottage and its locale. He needs to complete his journey, and no one there knows how to help him. Maybe, he doesn't even realize he __**needs**__ help. Well, at least, he's not going . . . __**elsewhere**__. He wouldn't have been able to tolerate attending Mass, if that was the case._

After they traveled a few more yards in silence, Sister Kathryn took a deep breath, and finally asked, "Captain, why are you still here, bumming around on earth?"

Captain Gregg suddenly stopped in his tracks. Kathryn stopped, too, and looked up at him in confusion.

"Sister," the captain said, in his most clipped tone. "I will have you know that I have _never_ 'bummed around,' as you suggest!"

"I'm very sorry," Sister Kathryn quickly soothed. "I should have chosen my words more thoughtfully."

Captain Gregg nodded his acceptance of her apology, and they resumed their trek homeward.

After a few more yards, he answered her question. "I am still here because I have uncompleted work."

"Oh?" Kathryn responded. "The children told me about your wanting Gull Cottage turned into a home for retired sailors."

"Seamen, Sister, not sailors," the captain sighed in exasperation.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"The term, 'seaman,' is preferred to 'sailor.'"

"Oh, I didn't know that. Remember, I live in a desert, Captain. I will try to use the correct word in the future."

"Thank you, my dear . . . er, Sister. Your efforts will be appreciated."

They started off, once more, and Sister Kathryn gave her question another try. "As I was saying, the children told me that the family helped with a fundraiser, which brought in enough money to be able to renovate a building to serve as a home for retired **seamen**. Didn't this effectively complete your unfinished work?"

The captain rubbed his beard with his right hand as he walked. "Yes, it certainly completed the original work. But new work came to me before the old work was completed, and the second took the place of the first when the two overlapped."

"Overlapped?" Kathryn asked. "When did they overlap?"

"When the Muirs first crossed the threshold of Gull Cottage," Captain Gregg replied.

"Ah!" said Sister Kathryn, her suspicions partly confirmed. "So, you came to love them, and now see yourself as their protector . . . much like a husband and father would be."

The captain stopped once more, and looked up at Gull Cottage, which could now be seen about a quarter of a mile ahead of them.

"Aye," he finally said, quietly, after nearly a minute.

"I'm so sorry, Daniel."

Hearing Kathryn speak his Christian name, he turned to look at her. Unshed tears of sympathy shone in her eyes as she recognized his burden. "It's _not_ your job, you know—and it's not meant to be," she told him, earnestly.

The ghost raised his right hand to his face, as if to shield it from her gaze. He sighed, then spoke in the same low voice, "Yes, I _do_ know. But I want it to be, all the same." With that said, he vanished.


	11. Chapter 11

Arriving back at Gull Cottage just in time for Sunday dinner, Sister Kathryn went upstairs to freshen up and change into a more practical habit, and joined the family back downstairs. Captain Gregg was nowhere to be seen—or felt—however.

"Where's Captain Gregg?" Jonathan asked. "He came home with you, didn't he?

"Yes, most of the way, but he left me in sight of the house. I imagine he'll pop in, in a little bit."

Suddenly Scruffy, who had been lying in the foyer, yipped, jumped up, and ran to the front door, where he began scratching frantically. He began barking in earnest, so Jonathan hurried to let him out. The little dog scampered out onto the porch, where he barked ferociously, then abruptly stopped with a questioning whine.

"What the heck is **that** all about?" exclaimed Carolyn.

"There's a big dog in the yard," Jonathan called from the door. "Come and see!"

All three women, as well as Candy, went to the door, and peered out, one by one. Just as Jonathan had said, a large, grayish-brown dog with a rough coat sat in the middle of their front yard facing the house with his tongue hanging out, and looking for all the world as though he was laughing at them.

"Ah!" said Sister Kathryn. "That is no dog—_that_ is a coyote! I had no idea you had coyotes this far east, Carrie."

"Neither did I," said Carolyn, in surprise. "Are they dangerous?"

"Not so much for humans," Kathryn said, "but they definitely are for small animals like Scruffy. You'd better get him inside!"

At that, Jonathan hurriedly went out, picked up the squirming dog, and brought him in.

"Unfortunately, this means that you won't be able to let Scruffy out unleashed, anymore," Sister Kathryn continued. "He's just the right size for a coyote's dinner!"

At this point, Captain Gregg appeared behind them and growled, "Well, I will just have to do something about that animal, then!"

An explosive crack of thunder, accompanied by a brilliant flash of lightning, made the embodied humans shake where they stood inside the doorway, but the coyote in the front yard did not even flick an ear. It just sat there, still giving each of them the distinct impression of laughter. If anything, its wolfish grin was even wider!

Sister Kathryn eased to the front of the group, suddenly feeling the need to get a better look at the creature. "You know, it really looks an awful lot like Grigio!" she abruptly said, in a bewildered tone.

"Who?" asked Martha, but Kathryn did not answer. Instead, she called softly, "Grigio?"

The coyote stood up and wagged its tail, still grinning. The woman cautiously approached it.

"Kate!" Carolyn called out in alarm. "What if it has rabies?"

"Grigio! What are you doing here?" Kathryn said to the coyote, incredulously, having gotten close enough for a positive identification. She looked up at the family on the porch in astonishment. "This is a coyote from the reservation!"

"You mean, the reservation in _New Mexico_!" Carolyn exclaimed. "Are you sure? How on earth did it get here?" _How on earth, indeed_, wondered the captain.

"I have no idea," Kathryn said, mystified. "But here he is!"

"Okay, so what are we supposed to do with him, then?" asked the ever-practical Martha, walking out onto the porch, herself.

Kathryn looked at Martha, then at Carolyn. "Well . . . if we feed him, he might not be so interested in Scruffy . . . ."

"But if we feed him, we'll never get rid of him," protested Martha. "Do you feed him at the mission?"

"No," Sister Kathryn admitted. "The Navajo are . . . um . . . _uncomfortable_ concerning coyotes, I'm afraid. In the tradition of the Southwest tribal peoples, Coyote is a trickster, and must be treated with great caution . . . and utmost respect. So, of course, we don't want to encourage the presence of coyotes around the mission. People wouldn't come to church, and parents wouldn't allow their children to come to school."

"So, how do you know this particular coyote, then?" asked Carolyn, in a calmer voice. She sensed a story, and her interest was piqued. "You've even named him?"

She noted that Grigio had sat down, again, right next to where Kathryn was still standing on the lawn, his tail curved around the back of her feet. Carolyn was curiously struck by how protective this simple, canine gesture seemed.

"Tell us later," Martha interrupted. "Right now, our dinner is getting cold. Are we going to feed the animal, or not?"

Carolyn looked at Captain Gregg, who had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout this exchange. He pensively returned her gaze, and shrugged, still saying nothing.

Kathryn looked down at Grigio, and, oddly, as though speaking to another human being, she asked him, "If they feed you, do you agree not to bother my family's dog?"

Greatly to everyone's astonishment, the coyote raised his right paw, and placed it in Sister Kathryn's hand, which she had solemnly stretched out to receive it.

"That looks like a deal to me!" declared Martha. "Let's eat!"


	12. Chapter 12

"You don't think he wants to eat indoors with us, too, do you?" Martha asked, with some tartness. Feeding a coyote was against her better judgment, but she still stood in the kitchen holding a crockery bowl with some of Scruffy's kibble in it, tastefully enhanced with drippings from the family's roasted chicken.

Kathryn grimaced in response, and said, decisively, "No, in spite of his apparent friendliness, he really _is_ a wild animal, so let's respect that—and not tempt him to break his 'agreement.' He should stay outside. I don't imagine he'd really want to come in, anyway."

"Glad to hear it." Martha handed the bowl to her. "Here, you can feed him, then . . . since you're buddies, and all."

When Sister Kathryn returned to the kitchen table, everyone politely, if impatiently, waited until grace was said before bombarding her for the story of her furry friend. Captain Gregg materialized in his usual place behind Carolyn's chair, also curious.

"Why did you name him Grigio?" asked Carolyn, passing her some green beans. "Is it a Navajo name?"

"No, nor is it a Spanish one," said Kathryn. "Actually, it's Italian." The mashed potatoes came around next.

"You gave an Italian name to a southwestern desert coyote?" the captain asked in a puzzled tone.

"Okay, I need to back up a bit to explain that." Kathryn plopped some potatoes on her plate, and carefully added butter, as she thought about how she would continue. "You see, not all Navajos welcome our missionaries on the Rez. We're 'white men,' for one thing, and we're Catholic, for another. Some people don't like one, or the other, or both, due to unfortunate historical reasons that I won't go into now."

With a serving fork, she carefully picked some sliced chicken breast from the platter that hovered in front of her, courtesy of Captain Gregg.

"Yes?" prompted Martha, who was interested, in spite of herself.

"Added to that are widespread problems with alcoholism and poverty, as well as some darker practices."

"Darker than alcoholism and poverty?" Carolyn asked. "Those seem dark enough to me."

"By 'darker practices,' I mean that there are a few Indians who indulge in the native versions of witchcraft and other activities we would recognize as occult in nature."

"Really! Are you talking about medicine men?" Carolyn dimly remembered medicine men from the television westerns of her childhood, which were unfortunately the source of most of what little she knew about the American Southwest.

"No, medicine men are mostly healers, and do not generally practice the dark arts I am referring to.

"But, as you might imagine, given all of these elements, white, Catholic women need to be extra careful about their ministries away from the mission. And some of us did, indeed, have some close calls, early on."

"But you just told us this morning that you and the other sisters walk long distances on the reservation, and I understood that you meant you were safe!" Carolyn exclaimed in her concern.

"We **are** . . . now." Kathryn's green eyes grew bright with unshed tears, obviously moved by some memory.

"What happened?" Candy whispered tensely from her place on the other side of Carolyn. She sensed that her cousin was about to share something mysterious, and her small body quivered in anticipation.

"Grigio happened," Kathryn said, almost as softly.

"Yeah, but _how_ did Grigio happen?" Jonathan asked impatiently, gesturing with his right hand for emphasis.

"After the first couple of brushes with . . . evil . . . all of the sisters, together with our pastor, prayed a special series of prayers for nine days, called a novena, for God's protection. And then, we just went about our duties, as usual. After that, whenever any of us found ourselves in any sort of potentially dangerous situation away from the mission, this particular coyote would just make an appearance, and the Indians who were bothering us would leave us alone."

"Just like that?" Jonathan asked in surprise. "They didn't try to shoot him, or anything?"

"Yes, just like that! Remember, I told you before that the Indians are very cautious and respectful when coyotes are concerned. While some of them—especially if they've been drinking—might try to have a little fun worrying some white missionary ladies, they won't mess with Mr. Coyote."

Carolyn repeated her earlier question. "So, why did you name him Grigio, then?"

"Well, years ago, a holy priest in Italy, named John Bosco—sometimes, he's called 'Don' Bosco—was working with boys who lived in great poverty, who were often uneducated, and in their desperation, would get into trouble, and sometimes even commit crimes. He established schools and training centers to help them learn skills so that they could get good jobs when they grew up to support themselves and their families, and they would no longer be poor. You might not believe it, but not all people thought this was a good idea, for selfish reasons of their own. So, Don Bosco was very often in real physical danger, but he trusted that God would protect him, so long as he did the work God gave him to do. And from out of nowhere, a large, gray dog would often appear to accompany him and protect him against attackers."

"Let me guess—he named the dog 'Grigio'!" Martha said, grinning.

Sister Kathryn smiled back at her. "As a matter of fact, he did: '_Il Grigio_,' which means 'The Gray One.' Of course, because we were familiar with the story of Don Bosco, it was natural for us to call our own friendly, neighborhood canine Grigio, as well. He **is** gray, after all!

"There are just a few more things I'd like to tell you about Don Bosco's Grigio, to finish off the story. No one knew where he lived, and the only times anyone ever saw him was when Don Bosco was in trouble—over a span of about 30 years, well beyond the normal lifespan of a dog."

"Wow!" exclaimed Candy and Jonathan, in unison. Both had goose bumps lifting the hair on their arms, and identical thrills of excitement ran up their spines.

Listening silently until now, Captain Gregg chuckled appreciatively—and a bit nervously, Carolyn thought, fleetingly—and said, "Sister, you spin a good yarn!"

"Among the American Indians, storytelling _is_ a very useful skill to develop, Captain," Kathryn said, crisply, arching an eyebrow at him, as she looked the solid-appearing ghost in the eye. "But I assure you, the story of Don Bosco is absolutely true!"

After a few thoughtful moments reviewing the strangeness of the coyote's unlikely appearance in their front yard, Carolyn turned to Kathryn, and soberly asked her one more question. "Katie, is it possible that _your_ Grigio is here to protect **you** from some danger?"


	13. Chapter 13

Carolyn Muir sat in one of the armchairs in her room reflecting on the events of the day, dressed for bed, wrapped in a lightweight, green robe that accented her eyes. In spite of the day's peculiarities, her cousin had concluded the evening as she had the night before, with a short sing-along with the family after dinner, and finally ending with a rather odd song Carolyn had never heard before that began by asserting that love is, among other things, "a dangerous dream, lonely and crazed like a dying bird's scream."*

"_This_ is a love song?" Martha had leaned over and muttered into her ear, perplexed, while Sister Kathryn was singing it.

And yet, it had been. The last verse had explained that Love was really "a Word with fingers and toes,"* a reference to Jesus Christ, Carolyn supposed, which would sort of make sense, coming from a religious sister. But the entire song was inexplicably disturbing to her.

"Yes, I found it bizarre, as well," commented Captain Gregg, thoughtfully.

Carolyn jumped. She hadn't noticed his appearing in the room, but there he was, seated in the other chair. In sudden confusion, she wondered if she had spoken her thoughts aloud. The captain's blue eyes met hers, but he said nothing until she addressed him directly.

"You've been acting very strangely, today."

His eyes appeared to twinkle. "Stranger than a ghost normally acts, you mean?"

She was not going to be deflected by his attempt to make light of the situation. "No, I mean _you_ have been acting strangely. What gives?"

The captain paused before replying. "That coyote is no natural animal," he finally said.

"I don't think anyone in this house imagines he is, under the circumstances of his appearance, coupled with Kate's story," Carolyn agreed. "Don't you know what he really is?"

"I have my suspicions, but I'm not sure, yet."

"But you told me before that you exist in eternity. It seems to me that you would just **know**!"

"My dear, I am a spirit, so t'is true that I do have a greater understanding of things supernatural, but I am not God!" He sighed in exasperation. "There are some things even beyond my ken."

"And Grigio is one of those things, then?"

"I believe I just said that, my dear. I also believe I need to be somewhere else, for the time being."

With that statement, Captain Gregg immediately disappeared from their shared quarters, and reappeared in his wheelhouse in the attic to do some deep thinking.

Stunned by his uncharacteristically abrupt departure from their room—it was usually a far more lingering experience, at night—Carolyn sat for a few more moments, gathering her scattered thoughts. Then, she decided she would not be able to sleep for a while, so she went downstairs for a glass of milk. As she stepped off the bottom step on her way to the kitchen, she noticed the front door was ajar, and cautiously went to investigate. As she drew closer, she heard her cousin's voice in conversation with someone on the front porch. She could not quite make out what was being said, but the other voice was masculine. Captain Gregg must have popped down to chat with Sister Kathryn before she went to bed, too, and Carolyn felt a slight tinge of jealousy that she was now sharing him with another woman he thought was "remarkable." Knowing that what she was feeling was unreasonable, she had the good grace to feel a little guilty about it. But then she suddenly realized that this voice did not belong to the captain. Who on earth had stopped by, at this hour?

She opened the door wide, and stepped out onto the porch. Kathryn, who was sitting on the top step of the porch stairs with her back to the door, twisted around to face her, an expression of surprise and trepidation on her face that Carolyn could see in the ray of light streaming from the open door. There was no one else there except the coyote, which sat on the sidewalk, facing the seated woman. The full moon in the unusually clear, star-studded sky lit the yard almost as brightly as a typical Maine day, and seemed to imbue the animal's eyes with a soft, warm, greenish glow.

For a moment they all froze in place, a fantastic tableau in the moonlight, broken only when what Carolyn had just heard and seen connected in her mind, and she exclaimed in utter astonishment, "Oh, no! He _talks_, too?"

Sister Kathryn's eyes grew wide, and she swiftly turned around to look at the coyote, which had lain down with his muzzle on his front paws, eyes closed, feigning sleep.

She turned back to Carolyn, and asked in a low voice, "You mean, you heard him, too?" She looked back at the legendary trickster, and murmured, "I thought only _I_ could! Well, I guess I'm really _not_ sun-struck crazy, then." In a louder voice, she spoke to the coyote. "Hey, Grigio, what have you got to say for yourself?"

At that, the coyote rose to his feet, trotted to the edge of the yard, and leaped over the low stone wall at its perimeter, disappearing into the night shadows beyond.

"Well, we obviously won't be getting anything out of him, tonight," Kathryn said, briskly, sounding incredibly like her normal self. "We might as well go to bed." She stood up, stretched widely, smiled apologetically at her still-astounded cousin, and walked into the house.

_Maybe, __**you**__'ll be able to sleep, after all this_, Carolyn thought grumpily, as she followed her in, pausing briefly to close and lock the door. _But_ _I sure won't!_ Then, as she started up the stairs, her desire for a glass of milk completely forgotten, another wild thought occurred to her. _I wonder what they were talking about?_

*"Love After All," by Michael Kelly Blanchard, from A VIEW OUT THE WINDOW, (www dot MichaelKellyBlanchard dot com/writings/lyrics_#afterall)


	14. Chapter 14

In spite of the clear skies the night before, Monday dawned cloudy and a little chilly.

Martha went out onto the porch to get Grigio's bowl, so she could feed him at the same time she fed Scruffy. Looking down, she saw that the previous day's food in the bowl was untouched.

"Huh! This might mean the deal's off," she chuckled to herself. She looked up at the leaden sky. _It looks like it's going to rain, too. Oh, __**great**__—we don't want the smell of wet dog fur in the house all day!_

Leaving the bowl on the porch, she turned and went back into the house to begin making the family's breakfast. Before entering the kitchen, she called up the stairs, "Kids, you need to take Scruffy outside before it rains—and don't forget his leash!"

"Okay!" Candy yelled back.

A moment later, both kids and the dog clattered down the stairs. Jonathan went to the closet under the stairs to find the leash, latched it to Scruffy's collar, and all three of them went out the door, closing it with a slam.

It immediately reopened. "Sorry!" yelled Jonathan, who then closed it, again, gently.

Chuckling, again, Martha continued preparing breakfast.

Soon, Sister Kathryn came down the stairs with her little red book, peeked into the kitchen to greet the housekeeper, smiled, and then went outside, as well.

Upstairs, Captain Gregg patiently waited until he judged Carolyn had finished dressing, then popped into the captain's quarters. As usual, she looked quite lovely, though not very well rested, he noticed.

"Madam, did you not sleep well?" he asked, with concern.

"No, I didn't," she replied, somewhat crossly. "Where were _you_ last night, Captain, when Kate and I were having all kinds of excitement?"

"Excitement?" The captain grew alarmed. "What happened?"

Carolyn threw up her hands, dramatically. "Oh, nothing much! A _coyote_ just had a verbal conversation with my cousin, that's all!"

"What do you mean?"

"The coyote! He **talks**! With **people**-words! I heard him!" Carolyn sputtered, almost incoherent in her agitation.

Captain Gregg regarded her, thoughtfully, stroking his beard with his right hand, but not replying.

"I **did**! I am _not_ imagining things!" she exclaimed further, stamping her foot, imagining that he was thinking she was losing her mind.

"My dear, I believe you," he hurriedly assured her. "We already know he's not a natural animal. I am just considering what this new discovery means."

With his words, Carolyn relaxed, a bit. At that moment, she longed for him to hold her in his arms . . . if only he _had_ arms with which to do so. She would feel so protected, so safe.

"So, what do you think?" she asked him, sighing as she diverted her mind, once again, from her desire.

"I think I need to have some words with the coyote, myself," the captain replied. "You might go downstairs for your morning coffee, however." He disappeared—to find the coyote, she assumed.

Carolyn brushed her hair, patted a little color on her cheeks and lips, and went downstairs to do as he suggested.

In the kitchen, she found herself a larger mug than she typically used, and filled it to the brim with coffee. She skipped her usual sugar and cream, and set the mug on the counter to cool a little.

"Where is everyone?" she asked Martha.

"The kids took Scruffy outside, and Sister Kathryn is outside, too—praying, I think. She had her prayer book with her."

Just then, there was a knock at the back door. Martha unlocked it, then stood back to allow Candy and Jonathan to enter the kitchen with Scruffy.

"Grigio is out front with Captain Gregg and Katie," Jonathan reported, "so we came in this way, instead."

"That was probably a good idea," Martha remarked, dryly, remembering the still-full bowl of food remaining on the front porch.

"Excuse me, please. I want in on that conversation out front," Carolyn said, as she walked toward the foyer. "Kids, you eat. We'll be in for our breakfast in a bit."

Martha, shook her head and sighed, then addressed the children. "You heard her. Sit down, you two."

Carolyn opened the front door, and stepped out onto the porch. All turned to look at her, including the coyote. The captain was practically glowering, but Sister Kathryn looked a little amused. What was going on? Carolyn looked from one to the other, questioningly.

"Daniel wants to know who I am, and what I'm doing here," Grigio explained to her, conversationally.

Even though she had heard him speak the night before, she had not _seen_ him speak, and now, Carolyn gasped in shock. She found herself momentarily speechless.

Finally, she choked out a question. "**What** are you?"

"It really depends on the situation, Carolyn," Grigio replied, cheerfully. "Sometimes, I'm a messenger, and sometimes, I'm a guardian. In all situations, I am what you would call an angel. I change my appearance accordingly, depending on the need."

"So, what do you _really_ look like, then?" asked Jonathan's voice behind Carolyn. She spun around to see him poised in the open door, and Candy also peeking out behind him. The only person now missing from this astonishing encounter was Martha. Carolyn turned back to the business at hand.

The coyote grinned, again. "I really don't _look_ like anything," he answered the boy. "I don't have a physical body. So, Scruffy's safe. Since I don't really have a body, I don't need to eat little dogs."

"But we _see_ you!" Candy exclaimed.

"Well, yes, Candace, because by my nature, I have the power to manipulate matter, so I can take on any appearance necessary. See?"

Now, instead of a coyote, a dark-haired boy, appearing just about Jonathan's age, wearing blue jeans and a plain, green T-shirt, stood smilingly before them.

"But, _Captain Gregg_ looks like his picture . . . .

"Yes, he does, Jonathan, because Daniel is not an angel. He's a human being who just happens to be separated from his body, right now." Grigio, now appearing as a red-headed girl about Candy's age, wearing a light-blue gingham dress, winked at him, and grinned. "But he'll be getting it back, eventually—new and improved!"

"Were you in Italy with that priest?" Jonathan asked.

"With John Bosco? No, that wasn't me. It _was_ another guardian, though."

"What's your real name?" Candy inquired. "It's not really Grigio, is it?" "Grigio" did not sound like a particularly angelic name, to her.

"No, but it will do, for now. You couldn't pronounce my real name."

Carolyn, still trying to gather her wits, asked, in confusion, "Are you male or female?"

The little, red-haired girl smiled impishly, and speaking in the masculine voice Carolyn had overheard the night before, said, "Actually, neither. It is not in the nature of angels to have gender."

"So, why the charade?" Captain Gregg rumbled, impatiently, feeling his own control slipping a little.

"The sisters prayed for protection, Daniel, and God sent me to serve them as one of seven guardians. The coyote form was appropriate for the environment."

"The shape of the Trickster!" the captain said, suspiciously, remembering Sister Kathryn's story.

"The coyote is a perfectly good form, as are those of all creatures the Creator causes to exist," said the being, with dignity. "It is true that some of the fallen ones have also taken on the appearance to cause mischief, but like all unfortunate occurrences, God uses this to accomplish His own purposes."

"'Fallen ones?'"

"Yes, Daniel. You know who they are, and what they can do. You've already dealt with at least one of them, yourself."

"But coastal Maine isn't the southwestern desert," Sister Kathryn pointed out the obvious. "Why did you assume the same form, here? It isn't 'appropriate to the environment,' to use your own phrase."

"It was the form you already knew, Kathryn, and were accustomed to." Grigio looked like the coyote, once again.

"So, am I in some danger, that you were sent to protect me?"

"You're not in any more danger than usual for someone who vacations in Maine," said the coyote, reasonably. "I am sent here as a messenger, not as a guardian. There is already a guardian, here."


End file.
